The Wandering Wolf
by wee-man 22
Summary: Darvon Stark ran away from Winterfell before King Robert's visit. After travelling the world he has returned to Westeros as Sansa and Jon have retaken Winterfell and Daenerys comes to invade. How will the long lost Stark fit into the world of game of thrones after season 6. [OC X Daenerys] UP FOR ADOPTION
1. Chapter 1

The north and the Starks have been linked for generations. Each stark member being known to each family residing in the snowy region. From the beautiful Sansa to the bastard Jon. Each northerner knew of Eddard's unjust death and the infamous red wedding. Where the lady Catlin and her son Rob, were slain through betrayal. Arya, whom had been lost to the ages. Presumed long dead and finally Rickon, recently shot down by the bastard Ramsey. All the North knew of these Stark's but there was one of the litter which still remained a mystery.

The second Stark, Darvon was a legend in the north of his own. Some cursed the boy for abandoning his family in their time of need while others adored the lad for following his ambitions even if that meant giving up the life he was granted from birth. Choosing adventure and poverty over luxury and politics. In the north Darvon Stark was known by many names. The most common of which being the wandering wolf. The legend of the tale being known even as far south as Kings Landing.

' _Foolish tales told by mothers and fathers to children. Saying one day my traitorous bastard of a brother would return to save his family and home'_ thought Bran as he finished his daydreaming to eat some of the rabbit Meera had caught and cooked for dinner. The two sat at a camp fire no more than two days' trek from the wall. They had lost the party of undead following them in the morning and had kept running to give themselves some distance for a decent nights rest.

Bran remembered little of his mystery older brother, He had left when Bran was still very little. But from the stories he could squeeze out of his now dead elder the boy known as the wandering wolf was always the odd one of the Starks.

"You've got that look in your eye" stated Meera as she looked up from her roasted rabbit to her charge. "What are you thinking about?"

"You're from the north right?" asked Bran, successfully gaining the interest of his traveling partner

"Aye" replied Meera "What of it?"

"You ever heard the story of my older brother?"

"Which one?" asked Meera between bites of rabbit "The king of the north or the wanderer?"

"The wanderer"

"The one who ran away from you and yours so as to live a life of adventure."

"I was thinking about him; I've learnt about the fate of almost all of my family. I know that Sansa and Jon are in Winterfell. I know Rickon, Mother and father are dead; and while I don't know for certain I think Arya may still be alive." Said Bran as he finished his dinner "But Darvon, I can't hear anything of. Not the chaotic life of the living I see from Sansa, or the silence of death I see from mother and father. Not even the mixed tones I see when I find Jon or Arya"

"So what do you think happened to him"

"I don't know, that worries me"

"Maybe he's too far away for you to see him. Maybe in the free cities"

"Maybe, it's just. If he's still alive, he must have heard about all that's happened to us. To his family, and still he hasn't come back. Still he decides to leave his kin to die. What kind of a man does that?"

"Bran" said Meera "He probably died during one of his adventures."

"I know but-"

"How can you sense everyone else of your family but not him?, what's different with him and your other family members?"

"I don't know" replied Bran

"When did he leave?, how old were you?"

"I was three… I think" said Bran slowly

"Do you actually remember him? What he looked like, the sound of his voice. How he would pass the time." Asked Meera

"….No…."

"Well, maybe that's it. Maybe you need to find someone who has seen him recently. Someone he knows personally"

"He's a wanderer. By definition there wouldn't be anyone he knows personally"

"Just think on it maybe. Do you have any idea where he was wanting to go?"

"From what little I could get out of Rob, he wanted to go everywhere. To meet everyone."

"Maybe when we get to the wall then, who knows we might just find someone who could help us"

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Darvon Stark was a favorite of the blooming rose brothel; known for being as delicate with the girls as he would be with a lover he was even granted a discount. Hell, a few of the working girls had even requested him from time to time. He got those times for free.

The blooming rose sat in the heart of Highgarden, that was how Darvon kept up to date on the events of Westeros. That was how he knew of his family's eradication. He had learnt that of all his family the only two known to be alive were Sansa and Jon. Darvon couldn't help but chuckle at that Sansa and Jon were the two who most disliked each other in his family.

Sansa was always the panicle of ladylike, while Jon was the bastard. Needless to say the two scarcely saw one another. Darvon did find himself missing his family on occasion. He loved his life, no doubt about that. He had travelled the world and back; met some of the most interesting people he would ever know and had enough tales to fill the citadel's library. He had travelled to the 'free' cities and met the mother of dragons. He had walked the deserts of Dorne and met the red viper himself before his slaughter by the mountain.

Darvon used the disguise of a travelling minstrel to move around the world. Every settlement had some kind of tavern, and each tavern needed singers. After all, if it was information you're after you can't do better than a travelling minstrel, well, other than being a whore. But that led to its own dangers which Darvon didn't care to introduce into his life.

But no matter where he went, he still remembered home. Sure, he may not have been liked very much within the walls of Winterfell by a part of his family. But the servants always seemed to enjoy the unusual lord. When Darvon was young he would spend his time in the kitchens, listening to the worker's banter and frustrations. They never knew he was a lord, he would 'borrow' tattered clothing from the local farms before he entered the kitchens.

Hodor, the simple stable boy. Darvon thought him as a close friend when he was young. He may not have been able to speak but he sure could listen, and everyone needs someone to tell their concerns too. Darvon was that for the staff and Hodor was that for Darvon. He had heard that the gentle giant went with Bran when he ran from Winterfell.

Darvon always considered returning to Winterfell. However, fate seemed to tell him to stay away. When his father was beheaded in the capital he would have returned to aid his brother in his war. He was only at the fingers at the time of the rebellion. Darvon had made it to the twins just as the butchering of his brother and mother took place. Darvon was stuck watching his brother and his men being slaughtered from the top of a mountain. He could hear the wedding bells from where he sat. The bells which then sounded the end of the war instead of a joyous occasion.

Darvon debated if he should go to Winterfell after the death. Take up his brother's banner and finish the war. With Rob dead; he was the rightful heir of Winterfell. Then he heard of the news in the north. Of Theon Greyjoy betraying his brother only to be taken down by the Boltons. Who then sided with the Lannisters in what had become known as 'The red wedding'. Darvon was no fool; he didn't have an army at his back. Just his travelling pouch and a scholar's worth of information in his head.

He had travelled away from the twins and the fingers then. Moving south he visited the Eyrie, saw the disgrace of a leader the mountainous region had. He hoped that the boys guard could teach him to rule half decently. Otherwise the Eyrie would befall the same fate as Winterfell.

He had avoided Riverun when he travelled from Herenhall to Faircastle, to avoid being recognised. There were many benefits in being believed dead by the masses. He had even settled somewhat in Faircastle. House Farman had even begun to use Darvon as his personal advisor. When Darvon had moved on from the island he had been gifted a personal ship along with a promise that if he ever did wish to return he would be welcomed with open arms. Houses like Farman are why Darvon loved travel. The head of the house; lord Braddock was a kind soul. Wary from the endless Ironborn raids but still a loving family man. Darvon had grown to respect the former soldier in his stay on the island.

Lord Braddock's wife Allis was as beautiful as she was cunning. She was the leader of the region in all but title. She didn't trust Darvon at first, why would you if a stranger from the recently rebelling north came into your family home. Eventually though Darvon worked his way into her good books. She had even been the one to convince her husband to gift his ship, The Water wolf when he left. What with the constant attacks from Iron wrath ships were a precious commodity on the island.

Darvon's favorite Farman member was the daughter, Maygen. She was ever so smart; her intelligence only being eclipsed by her compassion. She could also convince her father to do anything short of running naked through the streets. She knew it too, using her influence over her father to make sure the citizens of the small island were happy and well fed. There were more than a few tears when Darvon had left. He swore to her that day; he would return before she forgot his face. He wanted to see her future husband. He would make sure that he was worthy.

After Faircastle he travelled all over the southern areas of Westeros. From Kings Landing to Storms end. Kings landing was a shit hole, ever since hearing of his father's execution Darvon felt nothing but contempt towards the Lannisters. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw one of the golden haired cunts. He had learnt a few ways of fighting in his travels and he was always something of a natural. Being a naturally strong lad he knew his strengths in a fight. It wasn't until he left Westeros and travelled to the faceless men that he learnt true skill in battle.

It was as a faceless man that he met the mother of dragons, and it is as a faceless man that he now finds himself back in Westeros. When he had left the house of black and white his mentor had told him of his sister. 'A girl named Arya Stark left here not three months past' he had said.

This knowledge that the sister he once thought dead was alive and in Westeros, added to the news that Jon and Sansa had retaken Winter fell and then coupled with Daenerys deciding to finally invade led him back to the brothel in Highgarden A whore under his arm and a mug of ale in his hand Darvon made his way into one of the private rooms. Finally falling asleep with the women curled up in his arms in a sweaty pile late into the night. Darvon had a feeling this whore may very well have been one of the girls who asked for him. He'd pay her either way, he hadn't had a fuck like that in far too long.

Just before sleep consumed him Darvon thought on where he must go next. First thing he needed to do would be to find out all that took place while he was away from Westeros. Starting with Cersei becoming queen and Kings Landing going up in green flames. Then he would have to decide whether to find Arya or return to Winterfell. His internal debate followed him into unconsciousness as he joined the whore in his arms in a Peaceful slumber.

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So that's first chapter! How do you think it went, please review!

Also I don't know if I should have a romance with Darvon or who it should be. What with this story being set after the end of season 6 that removes the Tyrells for one. So I don't know. Tell me if you want a romance and if you do, who with?

Also do you want Darvon to be in Winterfell or help Arya with her list?

It will be a while between uploads. I've got different stories I need to focus on.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lord commander!" Yelled the man, he was running through the courtyard towards the knight commanders cabin. The man was stationed on top of the wall, he was to report any events to the lord commander immediately. He was a simple man; he came from a poor background. He was nothing but a humble farmer's son, but the crops hadn't grown right and now with winter on the way there was no way of his father sustaining the family. So, here he was. Shivering in cold and constantly anticipating an invasion of mythical monsters.

"Lord Commander!" yelled the man as he knocked on the cabins door. Clear hysteria in his voice. "Lord Commander!" the man knocked again, this time the door opened revealing a disgruntled Edd Tollett. He was dressed for sleep and the warm cabin air washed over the recruit like a wave.

"Who are you?" said Edd, clearly unhappy at being awoken at such an odd hour.

"Ryan sir!" said the ranger, his voice nervous yet clear "News from the wall sir"

"What is it?" said Edd, shaking off his grogginess "Anything of the white walkers?"

"No sir, two figures. they look to have injured sir"

"Well… How far out are they?" asked Edd as he exited the cabin, not before throwing his cloak over his shoulders and collecting his sword. The two made their way across the court yard towards the elevator as they spoke"

"At least a day out sir. With the sled they are carrying its likely to take them two" said Ryan as the two entered the elevator. They barely noticing the lurch when the cage started its ascent.

"Do they look like trouble?" asked Edd

"No Sir, they look like wildlings to me. Reckon they got separated from the rest of the army."

"So, send out the horses. Get them in here."

"Sir, the horses are spooked about something, they have been since morning. No rider could calm them now and besides; if they are injured a horse would do no good, it would spook them further."

"You're smarter than you look Ryan" said Edd as the cage arrived at the top of the wall.

"Thank you sir, I tended to the horses on the farm"

"And which farm would that be?" said Edd as he looked out across the plan through a telescope.

"Horn wood sir" said the Ranger with a smile on his face, remembering the love of his former home.

"And you're here because?"

"Volunteered sir. We didn't have a very good harvest, and now with winter coming in I couldn't have stayed. I figured I'd go where I could do some good."

"A volunteer." Said Edd as he put away the telescope; satisfied with the ranger's observation. "We have far too few of those these days. See if we can send out a scout party in the morning."

Far away in the cold Bran and Meera looked on the wall with an almost hungry look in their eyes.

"There it is Bran" said Meera as she began to make camp for the night. "Not more than a day or two away. Just think, hot food and a warm fire. Thick stone walls to keep the cold out"

"It doesn't even look occupied" said Bran quietly. Not nearly as excited as his travelling companion "Where are the torches?"

"Its late Bran, they're probably asleep." Said Meera dismissively "As we should be. It's an early morning tomorrow"

"I know Jon is aware of the white walkers. He must have told the wall, surely they should be on the lookout for an attack" replied Bran

"I don't know Bran; we might just not be able to see the torches. It is late at night and the wall is still far for the eye" Said Meera as she set a camp fire going. The sounds of the wood crackling comforted Bran.

"I guess we'll find out when we arrive." Said Bran as Meera pulled two rabbits out of a sack and began skinning the animals.

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Darvon Sat in the blooming rose come morning. A greasy plate of bacon and eggs lay in front of him with parchment and quill on the far side of the table. He sat in the corner of the entrance to the brothel. He liked to eat his breakfast close to the exits. It helps alleviate some of the smells that stains the walls of establishments such as these.

Darvon didn't mind the scent that came with sex. A kind of sweat mixed with arousal, truth be told with the amount of time he spent in different brothels around Westeros, he had come to appreciate the smell as one would their mothers homemade cooking. Even so he found that any smell becomes tainted when smelt too often.

Darvon had decided when he woke up that he wouldn't return to Winterfell. He had no great desire to return to his frozen birthplace. Not to mention now that winter had actually arrived in Westeros the north was set to get even more hostile to travelers. No, Darvon was rather happy with the warmth that came with the south.

Instead, he would track down his faceless sibling. As strong as he was sure she had become in her travelling he couldn't help but worry. He had accepted that he couldn't have done anything about his parents or his elder brother; but if he didn't find Arya and then he heard of her death. Now, that would be devastating. The last time he had seen her she had been little more than a babe.

He was a smart man though; he knew he couldn't just set off in the hopes of finding her. Westeros is a large and hostile place. The chances of finding her without any information were practically nonexistent. The issue was that, while he was good with people. Darvon tended to stay away from the politics of the world. It may be naive with the current state of things but when Darvon saw something incredible like the thousand foot wall of ice in the north or the mythical beasts that followed a beautiful and kind leader. He didn't like to interfere. He was more than content with just observing. He learnt a long time ago that politics rarely brought anything but misery with them.

He knew of a few people he could turn to. Namely, the spider and little finger. But both of those came with problems he didn't wish to take. Firstly, he had no idea where Varys had disappeared to. He had left Tyrions side when Darvon had left the Meereen. He could ask if Tyrion knew where Varys went to but he doubted Varys would have told anyone his destination.

While Darvon knew where little finger was residing and could send a raven, he knew little finger was a snake. If he knew that the heir to Winterfell was alive and well, then he would no doubt have plans for him. Plans Darvon had no intention of following. He had plans of his own to fulfill now that he was done his traveling.

Darvon eat his beacon as he pulled the piece of parchment over the table towards him. Picking up the quill as he did so, he began to write with a content smile on his face.

 _My dear Daenerys._

 _I hope this letter finds you well, I know that prolonged sea travel can have disastrous effects on one's stomach. I find myself in Highgarden at the moment although my plan is to be travelling again by nightfall so I will likely be on the road when you receive this letter. I can't tell you where I shall be traveling to for I do not know myself. All I can tell you is that I intend to find my sister and not the one in Winterfell._

 _It's a beautiful place, Highgarden. Even with the people in mourning I find my breath being taken from me when I see the gardens. I never could do them justice in all my tales, although I guess you will see them for yourself when you arrive. I do hope that whatever may happen to this place the views remain intact, it would be a shame to ruin such beauty._

 _You always did prefer me to be blunt so I shall be here. In my travels I have met many fascinating people and have grown fond of many more. A few of those fascinating people like yourself hold a special place in my heart. It's for that reason I must write this letter with a request. You know of course, I usually try not to get involved in the politics of the world although on this occasion I am compelled to do so on behalf of others that hold a place in my heart like you do._

 _House Farman rule Fair isle. A tiny and largely insignificant place except for one thing. House Farman has a strong navy. However, the Iron islands are great enemies of Fair isle and will likely attempt to conquer the island once stability has been brought back to the Greyjoys. My request is simple, I fully expect you to deliver the Iron Islands to Yara and I fully support this action. All I ask is that when you do you make the Greyjoys swear to peace with house Farman of Fair isle. They are a kind and weary house that simply cannot be sucked into the war that is to come._

 _In return I will make sure that house Farman does not answer Queen Cersei's call to arms once you have begun your campaign on Westeros. I have come to think of house Farman as my person family, even more so than my own house._

 _Please Dani, for the nights in each other's embrace we shared. Grant me this one request._

 _Also, say hello to Tyrion for me. I miss the little bastard._

 _-Forever yours_

 _Darvon_

With the letter finished Darvon eat the rest of his breakfast and took the scroll into his room. There laying under his bed lay his lute and minstrel costume along with his personal satchel. The one thing he still had from Winterfell. Eddard had gifted it to Darvon on the last birthday he celebrated with his family. Three weeks later he had run away never to be heard from again. Changing his life forever and insuring that the second eldest stark became the legend known throughout Westeros as the wandering wolf.

The satchel was made of a thick goat's leather, worn through years of use. It had the stark emblem embroidered on the cover with grey snowflakes stitched into the strap. That birthday was one of the few truly happy memories he had of Winterfell these days.

Inside the bag were his personal possessions. Mementos he had collected from the friends he had gathered during his life. Multiple bindings of parchment he had used for sketching and composing songs along with many lead sticks he would use for his sketches.

Darvon had taken to the arts the first time he had entered Highgarden. At the time he was using the disguise of a chef's apprentice to travel discreetly. People would always need a cook. It was with this disguise that he had met Margery Tyrell and her brother Loras. It was Loras who had taught him the tricks of song writing. He was a very kind boy although never quite as clever as his sister. She knew instantly that Darvon was no chef's assistant. But instead of telling her grandmother like Darvon feared she had spoken to him. Simply asking for his story, she was already learning the ways of politics. It was a shame really, Darvon knew that she was never to live a peaceful life, players of the game never did.

He had given some variation of the truth to her when she confronted him one night, she never actually knew his true identity but she knew he was of the north and that he had run away from home. If she had ever cared enough to truly study his past she would have no doubt figured out his identity. She probably had, if so she had kept his secret to the grave for him. Margery Tyrell was one of the first friends Darvon made once he left Winterfell. He had wept for hours when he heard of the Tyrell's fate. His decision to kill Cersei become concreate.

At the bottom of the bag lay a wooden box. It was a simple box, simple enough that Darvon should likely purchase a new on for each village he passed through. But Darvon hadn't bought it, he was given it as thanks for saving a farmer's daughter from being raped by bandits. The box had belonged to the man's father, a family memento. To a simple farmer the box must have cost a small fortune. It was made out of pine, stained to a rich polish with more than a few chips missing through decades of use. This simple box meant more to Darvon than all the gold in Westeros. Darvon never did care much for gold, a rather poor trait to have for a lord.

The lid of the box slid open with little effort, inside lay many stamps from each of the different houses of Westeros. Some of which Darvon had stolen, others were bought and some were given to him as gifts. The Targaryen stamp he retrieved from the box was once such stamp. It was the last thing Daenerys had given him before he returned to Westeros.

Darvon recalled his meeting Daenerys with fondness as he placed a blob of hot wax on the letter and sealed it with the Targaryen stamp. Daenerys would know it was from him when she received a letter baring her own seal.

After he had sealed the parchment Darvon placed the stamp back in the battered farmer's box and gathered his belongings. Throwing the satchel over his shoulder and strapping his costume and lute to the strap of the bag with a fluidity that had come from years of practice.

He made his way out of the brothel. Giving his thanks to the chef for the breakfast along with payment. The chef was a kind busty women Darvon had become friends with the first time he visited Highgarden. She lived a simple life with only one daughter and no husband. He had abandoned them not long after the child was born.

As unglamorous as her life may be, Darvon often found himself pining for a life such as hers. One time he had been invited inside of her home. The three roomed shack that could have fit inside of his bedroom at Winterfell held more love within its walls than he had ever received in the north, just another reason he didn't want a life as a noble.

' _The Starks may want the world to think of them as honorable'_ thought Darvon as he weaved his way through the streets of Highgarden. _'But there no more honorable than the Tyrells, and yet infinitely more foolish'_

Finally, Darvon arrived at the raven keeper of Highgarden and quickly had a bird sent off with the scroll in the direction of Meereen. Darvon hoped that Daenerys was travelling straight across over the ocean from her seat in the free cities. He dreaded the thought of having to choose between house Farman and Daenerys. Two if his greatest loves.

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Sandor Clegane trapped through the forest with long fatigued footsteps. Him and his religious group had been forging their way through the seemingly endless forest for days now and Sandor wanted nothing more than to find an inn. He longed for a warm night's rest, his belly full and an empty mug of ale in his hand.

They had decided they would make their way to Gultown for food and drink before they set off for Herenhall. Apparently the red lady was making her way south and Sandor's companions needed to speak with her. They would travel to Harrenhal and wait there until she arrived. Personally Sandor couldn't care less for the red lady or his companions. It was just that; he had heard rumors that Arya Stark was in the north. Apparently she was the one who had killed Walder Frey and his sons.

The hound remembered the girls list. She would recite it constantly during their travels, and he also remembered that the red lady was on that list. It was a long shot but if he happened to find the girl once again it would have been worth traveling with a bunch of religious idiots obsessed with fire. As much as the hound didn't want to admit it, he found himself fond of the young Stark. He had little in the way of friends, he was secretly hoping that he could eventually count the girl among those few.

He wasn't even angry at her for leaving him in that ditch anymore. Well, not as angry as he was….

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Tensions had been high recently between the Lannister siblings. They had scarcely spoken to one another since Jamie's return from Riverun and Cersei's accent to the throne. Jamie had taken to training with many different sword masters, using the excuse that he could not protect his queen if he was not a master with left handed sword fighting. Truthfully Jamie was having more and more doubts about his love for Cersei. She seemed to care less and less about Tommen's suicide with each passing day.

Cersei had become even colder towards the world since her reign began. She had little patience for the problems that were being presented daily and even less patience when it came to the cities rebuilding. People were confused about how the city could have been storing a cache of wildfire. Most assumed that the wildfire had been used up in the battle of kings landing against Stannis Baratheon a while ago. The official story from the Queen was that there had been an amount leftover from the battle that the city had been working to remove. The explosion was an accident that had tragically took the lives of many and destroyed the great sept.

Jamie was no fool. He knew the story was a lie, just like he knew that many of the public were quickly figuring this out also. There was serious worry within the small council that the people would begin rioting soon. There was even greater concern about the reports that Daenerys Targaryen was sailing over the sea. An army of thousands and three dragons at her back. Plus, with the assassination of Walder Frey the Royal hold on much of Westeros was becoming challenged.

Jamie was planning an exhibition. He would visit the sworn houses and make sure that they would answer the call should it be put out. He was also planning on travelling to the twins to make sure that whoever may take over from house Frey would swear loyalty to the crown and not the newly risen king in the north.

He kept thinking back to his travels away from Kings Landing. While he was away he had met people he considered friends, what was even more unusual is he found that he liked having friends more than he should. He thought of his actions when he was away from his sister. He had shown honor even after being held captive and having his sword hand stolen. He had been kind and smart in dealing with Riverun and Dawn finding a resolution to the issues he faced with little bloodshed.

And yet, when he was residing in Kings Landing he had betrayed Eddard Stark. Killed without Remorse and taunted a grieving wife with her husband's death, a man he had truthfully respected. It was clear to him now, Kings Landing brought out the worst in him.

Jamie felt disgusted with himself. He had performed atrocities all in the name of Lannister, atrocities far worse than the one he would forever be known for. Killing a madman who tortured countless and was ordering the death of far more was nothing to crippling a child and murdering his father. No, he had to leave Kings Landing. At least for a little while. He was beginning to understand why his brother had ran away more with each passing day, it wasn't like Tyrion was the first to do so either. Nor would he be the last Jamie was sure.

With that in mind Jamie organized his journey, consulting a map to find the best route to take in order to visit all sworn houses. He would start with Lannisport and then travel to house Lefford, before ending with house Farman. They were the houses Cersei had the most doubt concerning their loyalty. After that he would travel to Riverun and end with travelling to the Twins. Just to make sure that they knew the crown was watching.

The Twins had to stay under Lannister control if they were to have any chance of winning the wars to come. If the reports were true and Daenerys Targaryen really was coming to claim Westeros, then they couldn't also be fighting a war with the north.

That was the plan Jamie presented at the small council. There was little resistance to the plan, even Cersei seemed content to let him leave for what would likely be a several month voyage. That hurt Jamie more than he thought it would.

The next day at Dawn, Sir Jamie Lannister and thirty honored guards rode out of Kings Landing heading for Lannisport

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Daenerys was in her cabin, a goblet of wine held loosely in her hand. The mother of Dragons was sitting at her desk studying a map of Westeros when a knock came from her cabin door.

"Enter" said Daenerys with all the grace a queen should possess.

It was a messenger who entered. A young lad going by his face. He had short brown hair and a face with a softness that only came with youth. "A raven arrived your grace" said the boy nervously and he bowed deeply. "It's stamped with your own symbol" They boy quickly presented the scroll before rushing out of the door.

' _My own Seal?'_ thought Dani as she inspected the scroll. Curious she opened the scroll and began to read. A smile creeping onto her face as she figured out from whom the raven had been sent. After she had read the parchment she had called for the messenger to find Tyrion and bring him to her.

Dani couldn't help but to read the letter again as she waited for her advisor to enter the cabin. For Darvon was one of the few people Daenerys could say she truly loved. The two had spent more than a few nights enjoying each other's company. Neither of them were foolish enough to think they could ever be together publically. The world knew of Darvon as nothing more than a minstrel and if they did find out his true identity he would be forced to live the life of a lord, maybe even a King if he and Dai were public. He had told her more than once about how much he hated the thought.

Dani had written many times to her traveling lover. He had become a shoulder on which she would often place her burdens. She remembered the first time she had met the enigmatic Stark. As she read the final two lines of the letter again.

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Daario and Daenerys sat in a tavern of Meereen. The two had been walking the streets, discussing how best to make the people accept Daenerys as their queen when Daario had led the queen into the inn. Ever since she first took over the city there had been many issues she was trying to fix, few of which she would be able to do without the support of her people.

She was sat with her arms placed in her lap. Her face making it clear how uncomfortable she felt in such a place. She looked around the room with disgust as she saw a clearly drunken patrons ogling a nearly nude whore who was currently sitting in the lap of another drunkard, this one a fat bearded man. His face was as red as the sun and he had sweated his way through his thin silk tunic long ago.

No, Dani held no love for establishments such as these. It was with a grain of salt that she knew she couldn't close them. That was a quick method for losing what little love of the people she held. Of course, just because she couldn't close such places didn't mean that she had to partake in them either.

"Daario" said Daenerys, putting on her best queen voice "I wish to leave"

"Just let me finish my drink" said Daario with his usual cheeky swagger "Besides the minstrel is going to come out soon. They say he is the best in the city"

"I do not care for minstrels" said Daenerys dismissively "and I do not care for establishments such as these. What I do care about is you wasting my time on places such as these when I have matters to attend to"

"You want to know how to get the people of Meereen to accept you" said Daario, proceeding once he saw a slight nod from his companion "The best way to understand that is to learn how they live. You can't do that from the top of that pyramid"

Daenerys might not have liked the thought much but she did have to admit he had a point. There was no truer projection of a person then when they were drunk and horny. At least, that's what Viserys had always told Dani when she was younger.

Daenerys was glaring in the direction of a man who had mistaken the corner of the room for a chamber pot when the minstrel did arrive. He came out of the kitchen with a mug of something in one hand and a lute in the other.

He wore a form fitting shirt that didn't fail to show off his not inconsiderable muscle and a pair of trousers that were far too thick to be ideal for the heat of Meereen. He clearly wasn't from here. His flesh was far too white to be from the area although it did have a tan that came from travel. He wore large boots that made his footsteps loud as he walked across the wooden stage at the far end of the room.

Daenerys was surprised at the quiet that fell over the inn when the minstrel sat on the single stool positioned at the edge of the stage. There were no more drunken yells from the patrons nor false giggles from the whores. Daenerys looked to the whore who was laying in the lap of the fat man only to find her and the rest of the workers standing in the corner of the room. They were putting blankets around themselves as the Minstrel made sure his lute was in tune.

"They cover themselves when he sings" said Daario in answer to her silent question "No one wants to distract him once he starts. The people have been talking, apparently he is far more than a simple singer. this place is never usually this full, the people are here for him, not the drink nor the girls."

"How long has he been here. That outfit doesn't belong in Meereen"

"Very observant my Queen" said Daario in a hushed voice "The people tell me he travelled in a month or two ago"

Before Daenerys could ask any further questions the minstrel looked up from his lute. Took a gulp from whatever was in his mug before placing the cup on the stage floor by the stool and began to speak. Not breaking into song straight away like most minstrels do.

"Well it's nice to see the regulars again" said the minstrel with a smile, his accent making it clear he was not from Meereen. "Not to mention some new faces" he said as he nodded his head towards the table where Daenerys and Daario sat "And who might you be?" he asked not unkindly

"I am Daario Naharis of the second sons" said Daario as he turned to be facing the minstrel "and this is the mother of dragons" at this the entire inn looked towards Daenerys. Making her feel more than a little intimidated.

"The great Mhysa visiting my little inn" said the Minstrel. The smile never leaving his face, "It's an honor, Daenerys Targaryen. The tales couldn't do you justice, although that's always the case with true beauty is it not?"

"Thank you sir" said Daenerys in a quiet voice

"Would you do me the honor of making a request?" said the minstrel. Daenerys noticed the envious looks she was receiving from the group of whores.

"Do you know any songs from Westeros?" she asked after a moment's thought.

"I do at that" said the Minstrel as he took another gulp from his mug before clearing his throat. The attention of the inn turned back to him as he adjusted himself in his stool. "This is a song I learnt from a woman in Riverun. See if you can figure out what it means." With that the minstrel began to strum a slow tune.

' _Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

 _Save our sons from war, we pray._

 _Stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

 _Let them know a better day._

 _Gentle Mother, strength of Women,_

 _Help our daughters through this fray._

 _Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,_

 _Teach us all a kinder way.'_

The song went on for a good four minutes. Each punter in the inn sat in silence as the minstrel went through different pianos and fortississimos, gently swaying along with the soft tune of the song. Daenerys knew exactly why he had chosen to perform that song above all others from Westeros. She was the mother of dragons, the breaker of chains. To her subjects she was there gentle mother. She had to admit, he had a wonderful voice. So much so that she joined the others in the room and closed her eyes, letting the music wash her away to foreign lands.

When the song was finished the minstrel took another drink from his mug. There were calls for another and different requests were yelled from many. It all stopped however when the singer put his hand in the air and signaled for a waitress. It was a young woman who approached him, clearly nervous about being on stage in front of so many. The minstrel whispered something to the girl that went unnoticed. She quickly left the stage and went through the door the minstrel had come through before he began his performance, coming back into the room with a satchel held carefully in her hands she walked to the stage, the girl attempted to hand the bag to the singer on stage from where she stood on the floor but was forced to climb back onto stage to hand the bag to the singer when he refused to accept the bag from her outstretched hand.

He accepted the bag the second time she offered it, this time with her standing by his side on stage. Yet he would still not allow her to leave. Instead he held her wrist in his hand as he pulled something out of his bag. It was a large book with tattered edges to it. Then, still with a smile on his face he gave the book to the waitress.

She had a shy smile on her face as she opened the book. She flipped the pages with care one would take with a holy book until she handed the book back to the singer, this time open at a page somewhere roughly in the middle of the book. With a thanks from the singer the waitress left the stage her face a burning crimson.

"That girl has great taste" said the minstrel to the crowd. "This is a song I wrote when I was crossing the ocean to arrive at this very city we all find ourselves in. I was looking to the stars one night, feeling the motion of the waves below my feet as they rocked the boat when I wrote this one"

It was then that Daenerys realized what was in the book. ' _it must be his songbook.'_ Dani saw how clever the act that the minstrel put on was. Instead of providing simple background noise and being paid by the pubs owner he instead made a show of his act. Making it far more likely that the pub asks him to return after he has finished his act for the night.

The genius of the act became even more apparent to Daenerys after he had played his way through much of the night. For when he had emptied his mug he didn't give it to a waitress for a refill, he instead placed it on the edge of the stage. Empty. At least, until he had finished his final song. Hours after Daenerys had requested the opening tale the patrons of the inn one by one placed handful after handful of coins into the mug.

Dani even saw the fat man from earlier waddle his way over to the stage and place more money than a normal minstrel earns in a month into the battered mug. _'He must have more money than most houses of Westeros if he performs like that regularly.'_

All of this was done in silence by the crowd. You could hear every cough, sneeze and deep breath in the room when he wasn't singing. It was only when he had risen from the stool and took a deep bow that the crowd erupted into cheers. Even Daenerys couldn't resist applauding the unique performer. Even Daario was giving the singer a standing evasion as he slung the satchel over his shoulder and placed the mug into the bag.

Instead of returning to the kitchens like Daenerys expected he instead walked through the crowd. Shaking hands as he did so until he came to Daenerys's table. There he stopped and looked at the mother of dragons.

The two locked eyes for a minute until the minstrel opened his sachet and retrieved the same book he had handed to the waitress at the start of the night. This go the crowd's attention as once again they fell silent. The songster then flicked through his book, without the care that the waitress had used earlier until he stopped at a certain page. This one near the rear of the book. Without a word he casually tore the page from the book and placed it down on the table.

The crowd gasped at the sound of tearing. Deanery's looked from the parchment he had placed on the table to his face with curiosity. In response he simply offered her a smile and bowed his head before strolling out of the inn. His lute held loosely in his right hand.

The inn was silent after he left, they were looking at Daenerys with clear envy in their faces. It was then that she read the parchment. Written on it in a delicate hand were lyrics to a song she had never heard. A song he hadn't played during the night. A song about her.

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Daenerys stood at the memory and made her way across her cabin to the bed. There lying next to her bed was her current book, but more importantly inside of the book was a piece of parchment, a torn edge standing out from the rest of the parchment contained within the leather. She was reading the lyrics when a knock came from her cabin door. She had read the parchment so often that she knew the words like she knew her own name.

She placed the parchment on her bed and opened the door where she was met with her friendly dwarf, waving her advisor in she quickly placed the paper back inside of the book. It was the one song he wouldn't perform for anyone but her. And she would never show the lyrics to anyone other than him. It was just another silly game the two played.

"Daenerys" said Tyrion with a smile as he followed his queen into her cabin "what can I do for you?"

"Darvon sent a raven" she said as she handed him the letter "He asks a favor of me"

Tyrion's eyes scanned the parchment quickly until he got to the final line. A smile broke out on his face as he looked up to the women who had renewed his faith in the world. "Well" he said joyfully "I guess we had better talk to Yara then"

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A/N:

There we go. Chapter two, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please leaver reviews. It helps me write if I know you all want to read my story.

Sorry for the late upload. What with University work and trying to write three stories updates will be irregular.

Again please like/fav/review

Until next time :)


	3. Chapter 3

Jamie Lannister sat in the basset hound inn, a rather pleasant place situated just outside of Lannisport. a mug of ale and a dish of pie lay on the table in front of him. So far he and his guard force had made good progress on their journey. The horses were the best to be found in the capital and so were able to travel well into the nights. Due to this they had arrived at Lannisport within a fortnight of leaving Kings landing.

Lannisport was something of a delicate situation, officially Cersei was still the lady of Casterly Rock. However, with her being queen regent, an arse was needed to reside in the castle. Tyrion was disqualified due to obvious reasons and Jamie had only just returned from a mission given to him personally from his sister. The role would have fallen to uncle Kevan however he was killed along with the Tyrells in the great sept.

The ugly truth was that ultimately Jamie would have to be given the role now that he had been dismissed from the queen's guard. A future which Jamie detested as much as he had the mad king. He was a soldier; he always would be a soldier. He knew as did his sister that he would be ineffective as head of Lannisport; but Jamie was a man, more so a man in need of redemption. He hoped that his ruling Lannisport as a fair and just lord might help him make peace with just a few of the daemons he had crossed during his life. He was only visiting his houses seat in order to inform his future advisors of the plan in person.

These thought raced through his mind as he ran his forefinger along the edge of his mug. He sat on his own at a small table in one of the shadowed corners of the tavern. His guard huddled around a table not five feet to his left. Far enough from him that they felt comfortable drinking yet close enough for them to be of aid should any trouble arise. Jamie doubted anything would happen though, he was the future ruler of Lannisport. No one would dare harm him or his guard in his own home. _'Just like no harm came to the Starks when you visited them in Winterfell'_ thought Jamie glumly as he brought the mug to his lips.

He ate his pie in peace that night, drinking away a few of his more persistent voices in his head. Retiring to his room for the night never noticing the minstrel quietly strumming his lute in the far side of the tavern. Or the subtle stares he threw the one handed Lannister. Arya Stark was not the only northerner with a list, and Darvon will have crossed one name off his before the morn.

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"You can't be serious" said Yara, confusion and anger lacing her words "House Farman will take up arms against you. It only makes sense to claim the isle as your own. Plus, their navy could hurt us badly should they fight"

Yara was standing opposite Deanerys and Tyrion on the bow of their fleet's flagship. Theon standing just to the side behind his sister his eyes downcast. Dani had sent for Yara shortly after reading Darvon's letter.

"The Fair isle's navy is indeed strong" said Tyrion, a goblet of wine held in his hand "So why would we attack them and loose a significant number of our fleet when we could have peace. We could possibly even gain there's if the right deal is struck"

"And how do you know you could have peace with them?" demanded Yara, "there is no reason to believe that they won't fight us until their last breath. They will always fight the Ironborn, that's what they do!"

"A trusted ally has informed me of their wish to avoid conflict" said Deanery's, her posture showing her regal nature in full force "Plus, with Fairisle on our side I am led to believe that taking the Iron islands back for you will be less costly on our own forces"

"We can't use house Farman to take the Iron islands; they are our greatest enemy. My followers would abandon me as soon as they heard I was striking peace with those people" Yara was horribly confused by this situation "Why do you even care for such a small house?"

"I don't" said Daenerys simply, shocking Yara "But I care for someone who does. I will not endanger my bond with this person simply because you cannot work past a grudge"

"It's more than a grudge!" yelled Yara, startling Theon nearly falling on the slippery wood of the ships deck "That house have been enemies of my own since before my father's birth. I cannot make peace with them even if I wanted to. My people would never stand for it"

Tyrion began to retort when Deanery's interrupted. Her tone marking the end of the argument "Yara. You came to me for aid and I have given it, I will give you the Iron islands and the lordship of your house. More than I am doing for most in Westeros. Now, if you want to throw all that away because of a grudge started long before your birth then you can. Of course that would include you and your followers being forced to leave my fleet to fight your uncle on your own."

There was a tense silence between the four as Yara fumed. "Fine" she said reluctantly "I will not attack house Farman nor will I lead any kind of assault on Fairisle. But I'm telling you now, I won't forget this" With that Yara stormed from the deck of the ship onto her own, Theon following behind timidly.

"Well" said Tyrion with a sigh after the Greyjoys had returned to their own ship "That could have gone worse. Could have gone better too mind"

"She will fall inline or I will end her house as I will the rest" said Daenerys simply as she looked out across the ocean. Rough shapes were beginning to be seen on the horizon.

"I have an idea if you'd permit" said Tyrion, gazing toward Westeros by the side of his queen

"Go on"

"Well…. If we're going to go through this much trouble for one minor house, it may be worth paying them a visit. I for one am shocked that Darvon has a house he cares enough to pen this request over; we both know how he hates to feel indebted to another."

"Do you not think that they would worry, seeing an armada complete with Greyjoy ships sailing for them?"

"True… unless you write to them, of course that begs the question of what disguise Darvon used while he was with them doesn't it. It's not like you can write to him personally is it, the nature of a traveller forbids such things unfortunately."

"He said he didn't know where he would be travelling too, but if this house is of such importance to him he may be visiting there. Offer his support in a time of war"

"He could…." Said Tyrion "World travels fast in Westeros. My sister will no doubt be calling her houses to arms and while house Farman may not wish for combat they are currently sword to her."

"Darvon said in his letter that he would get the house to swear to neutrality, knowing him he will likely get them to raise arms for me"

"Aye, Darvon has always had a way with people" said Tyrion with a nod of his head "Which is why he will likely find it necessary to visit Fairisle personally. Declaring neutral or worse taking arms against my sister makes them oath breakers. They would be banking their very existence on our victory"

"Which we will do. Once I have claimed the throne I will give them riches for their efforts should they side with me"

"Generous my queen, but I fear we may be digressing here somewhat." Tyrion had turned from the horizon to face Daenerys directly now "The point is that for a house to gamble with their existence will take some convincing. Darvon's skill is in his words more so than his writing. Even if house Farman holds Darvon in as much regard as he clearly holds them they would likely decline his request if it was sent via raven"

"That rather seems like Darvon's problem to me" replied Daenerys "How does this effect my course"

"I will pen a letter to house Farman, however I fear that if they do not have any message of comfort from Darvon then they may believe that our intentions are to hand their lands over to Yara. What we need is for Darvon to send a raven to them himself, explaining the plan"

"Which would require me to send a raven to Darvon" said Daenerys, finishing Tyrions train of thought "But I do not know where he is, a raven needs a sense of direction does it not."

"We don't know where Darvon is true…. But we know where his brother and sister reside" silence descended over the pair as the implications of Tyrions idea sunk in.

"Absolutely not" said Dani after a while "He trusts few with his true identity, I will not betray the trust he has placed in me now. Never mind the fact that he has likely not contacted his household. No, Darvon is a proud man with a strong sense of justice. If I betray him now he will hold it against me, and he has a long memory"

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Jon had taken to roaming the halls of Winterfell when he couldn't sleep. He had hoped that once he had freed Winterfell from Ramsey Bolton that he would feel welcomed within the hall. There were many celebrations when Jon was announced as the new king in the north, but even through all of the parties Jon never felt at home, he was glad when the celebrations finally ceased.

It was then that Jon had accepted the facts. Much like runaway half-brother before him, Winterfell would never serve as a home to the bastard born. He had earned his place on the wall, became a respected figure. That was where he belonged. He worried about what Eddard would think of such thoughts. Jon had seen how devastated his father was after Darvon fled the north. Eddard would go from bright smiles to gloomy longing at the mere mention of his second eldest son.

Jon had little memories of Darvon Stark, he was only young when the Stark ran away. Jon had never understood why he had until now. Why would the second born Stark want to leave? He wasn't a bastard born like Jon, he would have been forever welcome in Winterfell.

Jon had always sought to be welcomed in Winterfell, to feel loved by his half family. Now that he was though Jon felt no different than he did before he set off to the wall. He had felt numb ever since the red lady brought him back from the dead. His fears and worried from his previous life seem so trivial now. What did it matter how he felt in Winterfell? Life was too short to spend worrying over just one castle.

Maybe Darvon knew that. Maybe had had realised that Winterfell would never be his home no matter how welcomed he may be. Jon had hated Darvon for many years after he had left, Catelyn's venom towards Jon had only increased after the Starks departure. She had said once that Jon had chased him away in a grab for power. Now though, he felt almost proud of his half-brother. Darvon held no desire to appease his family, he didn't care to appease anyone. Maybe if Jon had shared in that attitude things would have turned out differently. If Jon had only cared for himself maybe he would have run from the wall when he heard of his father, maybe his brother and step mother would still be alive if he was just a little more like his elder brother.

Jon fought to conjure a memory of Darvon's face as he walked into the courtyard where the final giant fell but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember his half-brothers image. Perhaps that was better, what good would remembering another lost brother do? Jon still saw poor Rickon's face each time he closed his eyes. If only Jon had been faster, if only he had told his brother to duck or weave then he would still be alive.

How anyone could rally behind him Jon didn't know. He was a failure; he couldn't even save his own brother when he was right in front of him. Rob was a leader, a kind and honest man with a wise mother to tutor him. Following him would have been easy, but Jon didn't know how to lead a campaign. He knew what to do in a battle sure but in politics, Jon was as clueless as a freshly born babe.

Thankfully Jon was pulled from these thoughts as a raven flew overhead, squawking as it glided. Jon decided to follow the bird to the raven nest. He knew that sleep would continue to elude him for hours yet. He may as well kill time seeing whatever news the bird carried. He used to be afraid of the raven tower as a child. The squawking would startle young Jon; he was eight when he had finally worked up the courage to enter, he vaguely remembered Darvon having an impact on his decision to enter all those years ago. How foolish the fears of a child seemed now, when white walkers were bearing down on Westeros. Death on their minds.

Jon's blood ran cold when he saw the leader of the white walkers. Pale blue eyes seemed to make time stand still when they locked onto Jon's own brown orbs. Jon had never felt so paralyzed since that battle. Not even when he had been betrayed at the wall. As he opened the note from the raven however Jon felt a familiar sense of paralysis take hold of his body. The note had no pleasantries, just the basic facts and was sealed with a simple grey blob of wax.

 _Jon Snow_

 _Bran has arrived at the wall. He says he must talk to you urgently._

 _Edd Tollett_

With those few words Jon once again felt his entire world flip upside down. Bran, alive at the wall. Countless questions rushed through his head as Jon ran across the courtyard to where his sister slept. Not caring to knock before he barged through the door. His sister woke with a scream at her brother's actions.

"Sansa" yelled Jon excitedly before she could chastise him for the intrusion "Brans alive"

The next morning Jon along with a small guard force raced from Winterfell. Their horses charging at a full gallop toward the wall where his brother lay.

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Sandor Clegane had already forgotten about the trek he had travelled. He no longer cared about the blisters on his feet or the hunger he felt down to his bones. For the little group had made it through the mountains east of Gulltown. Finally arriving at Wickendon in the early hours of the morning. They were to spend the night at the local inn and then finally, then would move onto Harrenhal. The fire worshippers had told Sandor that the journey to Herenhall shouldn't take more than another four days.

Four days until he saw the red lady and far more importantly, four days until he saw Arya Stark again. Sure, he knew that in all likelihood he was setting himself up for disappointment. The red lady would more than likely not be there and if the girl had learnt since he saw her last then she would know not to kill her targets so close together. Suspicion wasn't a good thing for an assassin to attract.

But even so he couldn't help but hope to see the girl again. He would be lying to himself If he said he didn't enjoy her company towards the end of their travels. He also couldn't help but think that the girl did too. She chose not to kill him, at first he thought she did it so that he would die slow but as time passed he realised that was false. The girl was clever beyond her years, she knew they were by a road, otherwise the Tarth bitch would never have found them. No, she had known it was likely he would be found. She just didn't want to kill him; had she crossed him off her list? Had she forgiven him for the butcher's boy?

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Darvon stark had ran out of money, he had managed to get from Highgarden to Lannisport with what little coin he had left since he journeyed across the sea. In hindsight he probably shouldn't have ordered such an outlandish breakfast back at the blooming rose. Although it was only because he had used the last of his coins that he found himself in the basset hound inn. Maybe the gods intended for him to have to earn more coin. He had convinced the owner of the establishment, a large portly man with a balding head to give him eight gold pieces for a full nights performing. More than enough to get him a ship from Feastfires to Faircastle.

The mood of the tavern had altered drastically when the Lannister patrol entered. The room had gone from comfortingly cheery to horribly tense in just a few moments. The guards had all sat around one table, looking comical as they jostled for seats around the rather small surface. Jamie Lannister opted to seat himself in the corner of the tavern, looking infinitely more comfortable as his face was engulfed in shadow. Darvon's eyes stuck to the lion as a wolfs would when tracking its prey.

Darvon had to admit he was a little disappointed in Jamie Lannister, here was a man who had caused so much death. A member of a family who had implemented the assassination of his brother and mother, not to mention the man who crippled little Bran. Yet as he sat there in the corner of the tavern he looked like just another haunted soldier, drowning himself in alcohol in search of relief from whatever horrors plagued him.

It wasn't hard for Darvon to sneak the potion into the drinks the guards were enjoying. No one ever noticed a minstrel after all. The drug wouldn't kill them, Darvon had no reason to do so. It would just ensure that they wouldn't be of any help to the Lannister when Darvon visited in the night.

It was well into the night when Jamie Lannister finally retired to his room. Darvon smiled at the timing, if he had just waited another twenty minutes then he would have likely been able to see the guards succumbing to a deep unconsciousness in their chairs.

Darvon finished work a few hours after the Lannister had gone to bed, the tavern owner gave him a handful of coins with a smile on his face. Darvon felt a pang of guilt at that, the fallout from what he was about to do would likely fall on the man's bald head. Not to mention the drugged guards, if he were to kill the Lannister then their deaths would no doubt follow. Even if he only maimed the lion the guards would still likely be stripped of all titles and banished.

He couldn't think like that though. He was one of the faceless men after all, and he had seen his target. Darvon left the tavern with a false smile on his face, still in his minstrel costume. He then casually walked around the back of the tavern where he could change into less conspicuous clothing. His satchel coming in doubly useful as it held both his spare clothes and his dagger.

A frightfully sharp 12-inch blade extruded from a goat's skin handle. The metal polished to a blinding shine. Like most of his possessions Darvon was given the blade as a gift, this time from a city guardsmen's family in Highgarden. The guard had been badly wounded in a confrontation with a thief in the woods when Darvon nursed the man back to health, his wife had been so grateful that she had given Darvon the knife as thanks. She said her father gave it to her before his death, now it was yet another item Darvon would cherish until he died. Just another reason he so loved to travel.

Tucking the dagger into his sleeve Darvon wrapped his scarf around his neck and he re-entered the tavern. Pulling the scarf up onto his face so it would cover his mouth and nose. He would have liked to have made a more secure disguise but time was of the essence. Inside, the tavern was much like it was when Darvon had left. Unsurprising, considering it only took him ten minutes to change outfit and stash his supplies.

He moved like a shadow through the crowd towards the rooms. After checking on the guards, who were still sound asleep. Their faces resting on the table edge Darvon prowled in the direction of the Lannister. He opened each bedroom door a crack to check its inhabitants. A rather arduous task considering the tavern contained at least fifteen rooms before he settled on the final room. The room where the one handed lion lay asleep.

Pulling the dagger from his sleeve Darvon slowly opened the door and crept inside the room, Jamie Lannister sleeping soundly in the bed as he approached.

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Yara was pacing around her cabin furiously. How could Daenerys even think of such a stupid plan? Make peace with the Farman's, what a ridiculous suggestion. That house would always be an enemy of the Ironborn. Yet Daenerys demanded peace, and Yara had no intention of angering the women with three dragons under her command. Yara had seen what those creatures could do when she first met the future queen.

But the question remained; who was it Daenerys cared so much for that she would gamble on a house she has never met? Yara couldn't think of many people the mother of dragons would even call acquaintance, and non that would have an interest in protecting house Farman. Maybe she would ask Tyrion? The dwarf might be utterly insufferable but maybe he would talk to Yara if she told him why she needed to know the identity of the person who held such power over the queen. Especially if she threatened him a little.

With that in mind Yara left her cabin, instructing her crew to lower the rowboat as she did so. The Ironborn had given their flagship to the mother of dragons as tribute when they struck their alliance and so Yara had to settle for their second best ship. While it was no way near as powerful as her old one Yara did appreciate the speed of her new ship. Armour was useful sure but speed could be more deadly than cannons when used correctly.

She was halfway between her ship and Daenerys's when she heard the war horns. There on the horizon were the silhouette of ships, too many ships to be anything short of a fleet and a large one at that. Yara began to row furiously back towards her own ship, almost there the crew threw her a rope. Tugging on the rope Yara glanced once more at the fleet on the horizon. Now close enough to make out the symbol on the sails.

Black flags with a golden kraken with the words 'What is dead may never die' written beneath. Yara pulled herself on board with a muttered curse. She immediately began barking orders to her crew as she raced to the view deck. Yelling for Theon as she ran, her brother came running up beside her.

"Who is it?" asked Theon urgently

"Who do you think it is brother?" Snapped Yara, turning to her brother sharply "uncle-"

Theon didn't hear his sister finish her sentence as the deck of the ship both Ironborn stood on disappeared from under them. The last thing Theon heard as he plunged into the sea was the sound of cannons firing around him and wooden splinters flying past his ears. He prayed for his sister as unconsciousness claimed him and he fell into the cold depths of the ocean.

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A/N: Okay, so there was just a tiny wait of four months…..

Uni work became hectic and I am currently stressed with trying to figure out the details of an exchange year placement. Im not going to give an estimate for the nest chapter because I never seem to be able to meet them.

Anywho I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review as it helps me think of ideas for future chapters. I have a plan for most of the characters but some (including Darvon) are proving difficult to think of endings for.


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